A slender stick of ancient lore, channeling power with a flick, it casts spells with a flourish, a wizard's trusty trick.

Round and round I go without a care, serving treats with a gentle spin. At the center of the feast, I twirl and share, making sure all can partake in the win.

Beach and desert sands: do this to search. It fits in hand. It also divides strands: from roots they’re swept with teeth that span. With cuts, it’s in demand. A greasers friend and slick back plan.

In autumn’s heart, a gem so bright, like cider’s glow in candlelight. It’s not an apple, nor a pear, but shines with warmth beyond compare. I may be blue so that's not fair.

For some I'm a breakfast delight. Cooked, baked or cold overnight. But not everyone loves me as such. Especially children hate my guts.